For Feet’s Sake . . . Scott’s a Birthday boy!

Today is my best friend Scott’s birthday and it got me thinking of aging and sometimes it’s not very graceful. We used to play a lot of racquetball and worked out at the gym together and had fun playing off the fact there is a slight age difference between us but there is always that competition to beat each other in whatever activity we try. We did one of our cruises last year on the ‘Freedom of the Seas’ and had a great time on the Flow Rider surfing ride and the fifty foot tall climbing wall as well as snorkeling. That competitive fire is still within us as we age even if the body has a mind of its own.

Never in a million years. Well, not for the last few anyway would I ever have thought that I would be cheeky enough to put a picture of my feet on my blog. Actually saying the phrase “my feet” and “blog” seem to go . . . dare I say it . . . “hand in hand?” No . . . I don’t think I’ll go there in my observation of my feet or make you suffer looking at a picture of such so maybe another time in another blog.

It was a thing of wonder really. Of course just being different made it somewhat interesting, the kind of curiosity you feel when you can’t help looking at someone with some sort of flaw to which you attempt to avert your eyes, but in the end, succumb merely for curiosity’s sake. Aging, it is said, is not for the faint of heart, and when you remain someone with essentially a 14 year’s view of the world, as I do, the tough parts about growing up are not only personally challenging, they can be baffling.

This is all part of the plot in life where you come to the realization that apparently you missed the briefing . . . What briefing, you ask? Oh, the briefing where they tell you that your body has other plans: that great mane of hair you had, the one that is now slowly disappearing from your head, will start to make appearances on other parts of your body. Now can anyone explain to me just why you have to reach your fifth decade for your ears to all of a sudden begin to develop rich, dark, vibrant curls, when for your whole life they were as sleek as a shark’s tummy? Is it a vain attempt by your eardrums to send you a message? Somewhere inside your ears, do those drums, unable to wave their arms and shout “I can’t hear a frickin’ THING anymore!” just grab whatever follicles they can, as if to layout a stretch of ground art . . . like the aliens did in Peru centuries ago? It’s a lousy way to send a message if that is their intent.

I find it funny that so much time and money is spent on trying to get us to buy what the pharmaceutical companies are selling . . . on the evening news programs there are ads for Lipitor, Viagra, Nexium, and who knows what else. But forget those serious conditions . . . blocked arteries, sexual performance and tummy aches are nothing when you have to stare at your very own toes each time you hop out of bed, or take a shower. I had taken one of those drugs for toe fungus called Lamisil for a few months about ten years ago . . . don’t be put off by the warnings about potential liver and kidney disease, and the notice not to allow it anywhere near where barn animals gather . . . and it actually started to clear things up.

Not long ago late one night, just before going to bed, I accidentally dropped a can of Maxwell House ‘Master Blend’ coffee (that’s one of the really BIG cans) right on my toe. After much pain and muted screaming to keep from waking everyone in the house I discovered that it’s not the recommended treatment for insomnia. Believe me when I tell you it hurt but after a while my ravaged tootsie finally just gave up, and went back to its old ugly self. I stopped taking the Lamisil and have accepted, not unlike the rest of my self, what it will be, a big black toenail with two other toes having that slightly yellowish color, now that the bruising is going away. So this morning when I hopped out of bed to answer a phone call, I was amazed to look down and see this wonderful composition: my feet in a box of light that the Alaskan morning sun was creating next to the bed. I ran downstairs and grabbed my camera and shot a few frames.

The key, I think as we age is not to look for too much detail. Imagine these might be Cary Grant’s feet, or even Jimmy Stewart. Actually, I suppose Robert Duvall or Karl Malden might be a little more on target. But part of aging is getting to be comfy with what it is that you have, and this morning, by the light of that great Alaskan sunlight through the window, even my very own clodhoppers looked worthy of a moment to themselves.

Black toe and all!

The gang at Margaritaville in Grand Cayman 2007

Happy Birthday Scott you’re aging gracefully.

(But even with my belly, I still weigh less than you)

Ice